CW: We have a flashback, folks. It is in italics so you can scroll until the font is normal again if you need to skip it. Discussions of past trauma. Hermione finally says the words.

I dedicate this absolute emotional rollercoaster to Kindajew/datingstilinski1967. She is currently writing Good Omens (which you should absolutely go read) and she listens to me bitch about writer's block on a daily basis. Thanks love for starting all these writers sprints and forcing me to finish chapters through sheer competition. I hope I make you feel something.

Betawork done by december_noon, Kindajew/datingstilinski1967, rosenymphadoraweasley5, and crookshankscrew.

Thanks for being here folks. I hope you stick around after this chapter. If it helps, I cried while writing it.

peace and love,

sam

"You think anyone will love you with these scars?" Ron taunted as he forced her to look at her left forearm. MUDBLOOD. He dragged the collar of her shirt down to run a finger along the purple scar from Dolohov.

Her body was riddled with scars. Some from the war.

Some from the man currently caging her in against the kitchen sink at the Burrow.

The Weasley clan had left on various outings to catch up with friends or attend memorials. Hermione had stayed back, hoping for a night alone. Ron had decided to "keep her company" at the last minute.

Molly and Arthur had left through the Floo not two minutes before Ron had picked a fight. It was over the way she was washing the dishes the Muggle way. He thought she was avoiding him by dragging out the task.

He wasn't wrong.

"No, darling. I'm the only one who will love you like this." He traced a finger along her jaw and she tried not to squirm. She tried not to pull away.

Apparently, she didn't try hard enough.

"What? I can't touch you? Am I not good enough for you, Hermione?" The gentle finger turned into a bruising grip on her chin to force her to look at him. "You want to run to someone else? Harry, maybe?"

His hand pulled back and then—

Hermione jolted awake in her bed. She'd never been more thankful for silencing charms and closed bed curtains. She cast a few extra privacy charms and then let herself break down.

She cried for what her life had become. She cried for the shell of a woman she'd become. She cried for the people she'd lose if they ever knew the truth.

She let herself be as broken as she felt. No one else had to see it.

No one had to fix her. No one could fix her.

She turned to find her wand from where she'd thrown it across the bed. A mistake. Her hand made contact with the bed curtains and at the disruption of the barrier, her silencing charm ended.

Lights came on by Pansy and Daphne's beds and she knew. They'd heard her. They were going to try to help her.

She bolted from the room, ignoring Pansy's cries of "Granger!" behind her.

She ran.

She ran through the common room. She ran through the dungeons. She ran until she collapsed in an empty classroom.

She cried again. Now, she cried that more people would know. More people would see that she wasn't Hermione "Golden Girl" Granger.

She didn't even hear the group shuffle in. She heard Theo's voice mumble something about how he'd handle this one. The rest of the group exited the room and Theo sat down next to her. He didn't touch her. He didn't ask any questions.

"I had a nightmare about—about him," she croaked out through her tears. Theo reached over to hold her hand.

"You can talk whenever you're ready."

After a while, Hermione had finally regulated her breathing. Theo produced a handkerchief that he passed to her. He still held her hand and stroked soothing circles across her knuckles.

"I've—No one knows," she whispered. "I need you to promise me you won't tell anyone."

"Secret's safe with me, Granger," he replied. There was no humor in his tone right now. Right now, he was serious and waiting for her to ask for help.

She had to say the words.

Hermione took a deep breath and picked a point on the wall in front of her to focus on. She couldn't look at him while the illusion shattered.

"You always think you'll leave the first time if it happens to you," Hermione said. "I did, actually. I fought back and left the first time." She wiped her eyes. "Then he showed up at Harry's—all tears and apologies. He blamed it on the grief and the aftereffects of the war. It seemed… reasonable. It was a mistake and one he promised he wouldn't do again."

Hermione closed her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat. "But that was the first of many broken promises with him. The second time it happened, I stayed to listen to his apologies and explanations. And then… I kept staying. I stopped fighting back. I tried so hard to make it work."

She shook her head and tried to breathe. She felt like such an idiot. Who stays after someone hits you? Was she that pathetic?

"Before you go into that spiral about what you did wrong," Theo's voice was very stern and she looked at him for the first time that night. "This was not your fault. You did not deserve this. He was someone you cared about and you were so tangled in each other's lives…" Theo trailed off and shook his head. He sounded pained—angry.

When he spoke next, his voice was softer. "The point is, you are not less than or weak because you loved someone more than they loved you." He squeezed her hand lightly and she gave him a small smile.

Hermione returned her focus to the wall. "Then I finally left. But I couldn't tell anyone why. I couldn't ruin other people's lives with the knowledge that they were friends with him or that they were related to that…"

I didn't think they'd choose me is what she didn't say.

She wiped tears from her eyes and tried to push through.

This was the part she didn't want to admit, but she was already spilling her guts. In for a penny, in for a pound. "And I felt guilty for mourning our relationship. That's the most fucked up part about it. I loved him." She squeezed her eyes closed.

"Not the person that would hurt me, but the person he was before. The person he was in between all the anger. I loved that person. I finally had to realize that they weren't two different people, but rather two sides of the same coin. You couldn't have one without the other." She broke down into sobs again. Theo pulled her into him and just held her while she cried.

Hermione felt… fucking relieved. It was out there. Someone knew and they weren't pushing her away. Theo was holding her close and telling her she was strong and brave.

"Granger, I don't want to push you here but," she heard him inhale sharply. "I think you need to say it. I think you need to say the one, clear sentence about what happened."

She pulled herself up to look at him. How was she supposed to do this? She felt like the words were clawing at her throat, but she'd already laid herself bare tonight.

A sound she didn't really recognize as human escaped her and Theo wiped the tears from her eyes. "It doesn't have to be now—"

"Ron—" she cut him off to start but the words stuck. Hermione swallowed again and drew on every ounce of strength she had. "Ron Weasley hurt me. He hurt me, Theo." It came out much quieter than she anticipated, but she'd said it.

And it felt like a weight lifted from her chest.

"Proud of you, love," Theo murmured as he brought her into a tight hug.

Theo let her cry some more and then pull herself together. He helped her up from the ground and walked back to the Slytherin dorms with an arm slung over her shoulders.

He left her at the stairs that would take her to the girls' dorms. Hermione hoped that Daphne and Pansy had gone to bed, but prepared herself for the onslaught of questions.

Hope for the best. Prepare for the worst.

As Hermione pushed open the door to her room, she was met with the concerned looks of her roommates. Daphne bolted over and pulled her into a crushing hug.

"Daph, let her breathe," Pansy snarked.

"Are you okay?" Daphne pulled back slightly to look at her presumably very puffy, red face.

Hermione could've lied. She'd lied to everyone else for months. But after the past few hours of being completely honest with Theo, she didn't want to lie anymore.

She also didn't want to lay her trauma bare for a second time tonight, though. The Golden Girl was only human after all.

"No," she said bluntly. "But I will be."

Pansy eyed her from across the room as if trying to figure out how much to push. Hermione decided to head off a few questions.

"Theo and I… have something very important in common. He's helping me work through my shit," Hermione said and bit back a laugh at the look on Pansy's face. Whether it was the cursing or the honesty that shocked her was anyone's guess. "And I promise… I'll tell you both about it. Just not tonight. Right now, I'm exhausted."

She extricated herself from Daphne and made her way to her bed. On the nightstand, she found a vial of Dreamless Sleep. Hermione turned to look at both girls.

"I keep a stash around. Too many people have nightmares." Daphne shrugged and got under her own covers. "I figured if it would help, but you don't have to use it."

Hermione muttered her thanks as she uncorked the potion and knocked it back.

"I'll help you with your face in the morning," Pansy said in her usual blunt tone. "Let's be honest, Granger, you're barely getting enough sleep as it is and after tonight you'll be dealing with a whole host of other problems. I can help make you look… how you normally look."

"I'd appreciate it," Hermione said with a dip of her head. "I'd also appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about this."

"Obviously," the girls said in unison.

Hermione slipped under the covers as the potion and the night began to catch up with her. Who would've thought Hermione Granger would feel safe in the snake pit?

Better yet, who would've thought Hermione Granger would trust Slytherins with her biggest secrets?

The Slytherins had rallied around her even more after that night. Theo made sure she was never alone, especially with Ron.

They'd started having nightly chats in the empty classroom before she went to bed. They traded stories and he helped remind her that she was allowed to be angry and hurt. She was allowed to hate Ron Weasley if she wanted.

Theo never pushed her after that first night. He did correct her when she would start to verbally spiral about how she was partially to blame. Theo made sure she knew that she was not at fault for her own abuse. When she would fight back, he'd ask if she thought that he was to blame for when his father hit him. It always stopped her arguments.

They were the same. Victims. Survivors.

Hermione carried on like that for another week. Trying to be normal in front of her Gryffindor friends. Taking support from her Slytherin friends however it was offered. Pansy and Daphne helped her in the morning to look her best. Daphne often gossiped and distracted Hermione from her maudlin thoughts.

Pansy would just tell her that her appearance wasn't for anyone else. It was for her. If she thought she looked good, she'd feel good. Slowly, after a few sessions of Pansy's very subtle changes, Hermione felt her confidence coming back.

Nothing Pansy did was a major change. A few charms to hide her sleepless nights and tame her curls. But Hermione was still there. Freckles across her nose, wide eyes accentuated by the mascara that Daphne had insisted on, and a mane of curls that fell down her back. She was still her, just with a little more polish.

She felt beautiful for the first time in a long time.

So when Theo announced he was going to throw a party in Slytherin, Hermione had just let Pansy and Daphne take control. At this point, she trusted them not to make her look like a clown or a toddler playing with their mother's make-up.

However, when Daphne produced an outfit that was barely a scrap of fabric, Hermione felt like she'd made a grave mistake.

"I am not wearing that," Hermione said firmly.

"Of course you're not. This is my dress." Daphne sent her a wink. "I did want to gauge your reaction to showing skin before I presented options for you."

"Clearly, we're going for something a bit more modest, Daph," Pansy scoffed. Hermione had learned that Pansy's tone shouldn't always be taken as patronizing or rude. She was sarcastic and blunt. It made talking to her easier when you knew she wasn't belittling you with every eye roll.

Daphne seemed to flit from each girl's wardrobe, pulling things out at random. She picked up a dress of Hermione's that she'd worn to some post-war function at the Ministry. It was her go-to black dress that she'd grabbed just in case her presence was requested. The dress had long sleeves and flared out at her hips. The neckline was high and the hemline was a little matronly, but it served the purpose.

The image of Hermione Granger. Practical. The brains. There was nothing flashy about a bookworm.

Hermione almost thought Daphne would pick it with how long she was staring at it, but it was quickly thrown into the growing pile of rejects in the corner of the room. Hermione settled into her chair, careful not to mess up her hair lest Pansy smother her in her sleep.

Pansy Parkinson had become friendly with Hermione. But she hadn't had a lobotomy. She was still bitchy when she wanted to be.

Hermione picked up a book to occupy her time and had only managed to get through two pages before Daphne's cry of victory jolted her out of the narrative.

"It's perfect!" Daphne strode toward Hermione's bed with a garment. Calling it a dress would have been an elevation in status. For all its coverage of her upper body, her legs would very much be on display.

"I thought Pansy said we were going for modesty…" Hermione hesitantly protested. She did take a moment to look at what Daphne had found for her, though.

The dress had long sleeves. Sleeves were a must and the girls had taken that requirement without further question – these were lace, though. They were skin tight and the design interwoven would hide her scar, but it would certainly be more breathable. The rest of the dress was very simple. It was fitted and looked like it would end around mid-thigh on her.

What struck her most was the color. Never had Hermione Granger expected to see any color beyond black, grey, and green in these girls' wardrobes. Maybe a few neutrals. But she certainly hadn't expected this.

Red.

It was a clear nod to her Gryffindor roots, but Hermione loved the color for other reasons. She'd never really been allowed to wear red when she was with Ron. It clashed with his hair and he hated the color (the irony was not lost on her). Hermione always thought she looked nice in red, which is why she'd chosen it for Bill and Fleur's wedding. She wasn't anyone's date and she wanted to wear a color she liked.

That was the other reason for her love of the color. She'd worn red the last time she felt normal. She'd worn red before her world fell apart and she was on the run.

Red had become an omen of death in the war. The color of blood. The color of a Crucio. But Hermione still loved the nostalgia of a red dress and dancing with various Weasleys. Laughing and just being young. The good memories outweighed the bad.

"I know it's a little short… and maybe a little tight." Daphne pursed her lips and a small crease was forming between her brows as she reconsidered her victory.

"Honestly," an irritated voice sounded from behind them. "Aren't you both witches?" Pansy waved her wand and the dress extended by a good few inches.

"We can alter it better once it's on you, that way we can adjust the tightness as well. Give you some room to breathe." Pansy smirked mischievously at Hermione.

And it was decided. Pansy and Daphne slipped into their scraps of fabric that they made look so elegant. Hermione knew the line between slutty and sophisticated was thin. Daphne and Pansy landed firmly in the sophisticated camp. Even in their sky-high heels, they radiated class.

Hermione hid behind a conjured changing curtain and slipped out of her baggy jumper and leggings. The dress slid onto her body like a second skin. Tight but not constricting. She felt self-conscious, though. There was no hiding in this dress. The color would make her a beacon of attention and then she'd be firmly on display.

She closed her eyes and willed herself to be strong. She'd make an appearance and then claim she wasn't feeling well to disappear to her bed with some tea and her book. You've survived worse.

It was a party. Not an execution.

Hermione vanished the curtain and turned to meet the shocked faces of her roommates.

"Well… who knew Hermione Granger had a body under those robes," Daphne said gleefully and she rushed over to make the necessary alterations to the dress.

Pansy was still staring as though this creature in front of her was a rare species. A real-life nargle or one of the other creatures Luna rambled about. She did finally manage to school her expression back to her normal level of detachment.

"One thing is for certain. The boys might die of shock at the sight of those legs." Pansy gestured with a singular finger toward Hermione's bare legs. "Merlin, woman! If my legs looked like that…"

Hermione felt the blush creeping up her neck to her cheeks. She'd received compliments sure, but never anything this… overt. Always just a general remark about how she looked pretty or how someone liked her new hairstyle. This level of flattery was new for her—and it was coming from her former enemies.

Finished primping, the girls made their way down the stairs where the party was already in full swing.

Draco was leaning against one of the windows in the common room watching Theo bustle around making sure everyone was having a good time. Refilling the bar. Taking song requests. Breaking up fights. Rescuing girls being cornered by guys too daft—or more likely too entitled—to take a hint.

Theo knew how to throw a party. He'd gotten a reputation during first year when Slytherin had won a Quidditch match. The entire house had returned to find their common room decked out with drinks, snacks, and music already playing. In later years, Theo would expand to themes.

Theo had foregone the theme for the first party of the year. Nothing felt particularly right following the war and with tensions running high, so it was just your standard adolescent debauchery.

"Where are the girls?" Blaise sidled up to Draco. He got up on his toes to scan the crowd. Theo had decided in the spirit of house unity to extend the invite to all the houses so the dungeons were more crowded than usual. Unsurprisingly, very few Gryffindors were in attendance. "Daph promised me a dance."

Blaise sent Draco a knowing smirk and waggled his eyebrows.

"Ugh… not again," Draco groaned and dragged his hand down his face. "Every time we have a party and the two of you don't have anything better to do—"

"You mean anyone better to do."

"You end up falling into bed. Then you both ignore each other for the next three weeks." Draco pointedly ignored Blaise's crass interruption. "It's awkward for the rest of us. Be considerate."

"What can I say? I'm homesick." Blaise pouted and looked at Draco through his lashes. "Let a man have some familiar creature comforts."

Whatever response Draco had planned died on his lips as three figures emerged from the dorms. For all he knew, the world might have literally slowed. People could have all ceased to exist. What Draco did know is that he would blame this reaction on a months-long dry spell and firewhisky.

Granger. Red Dress. Legs.

"Sweet fucking Salazar," Blaise breathed out next to him.

"No."

Blaise looked quickly at Draco, one eyebrow raised and a growing smile. "Why? See something you want to be more than just friends with?"

Draco looked pointedly at Blaise and repeated himself. This time, his tone did not allow for argument. "I said no. She's off-limits. Especially to you."

Blaise raised his hands in defense and walked backwards to the girls. Whatever he said made Granger blush while Pansy and Daphne just rolled their eyes. Then, his arm was snaking around the blonde's waist and he was pulling her off to a dark corner.

Swallowing the rest of his glass in one go, Draco started toward her. He hadn't thought this through. He was five steps away and he didn't know what to fucking say to her. Compliments? Would that be weird? Open with a joke?

Merlin, he was not this guy. He was not the guy who didn't know how to talk to women. But then, Granger wasn't just another conquest. She was his… friend. Maybe. Eventually.

"Ladies," he drawled and he leant to give Pansy a chaste kiss on the cheek. Pureblood traditions they'd never get rid of no matter how much they rebelled. "Don't you both look stunning."

"Yes, we do. Don't sound so shocked," Pansy quipped. "Sweet Circe, what is Theo doing with this music? Are we at a child's birthday party? How is anyone expected to dance to this?" She then bustled off to berate Theo. A game they always played. If Draco had to guess, this would turn into a war where they kept changing the songs until everyone just gave up and left.

"Granger, you look…" Draco faltered. Adjectives. There were so many. He just needed to pick— "breathtaking."

Oh, good fucking job. That's the best we could come up with?

Granger blushed. A color that was difficult to discern in the light of the dungeon. Especially when someone—Draco would bet Pansy—had just charmed all the lanterns to gradually change color. But Draco had seen that color in the sunlight of the library when she was flustered. A deep rose-pink that crept from her neck to her cheeks.

The blush was only further highlighted by the bold scarlet of her dress. Gods, she looked delectable in red.

"Thanks," she mumbled. "You don't look bad yourself. I didn't know you owned clothes that weren't black."

Draco glanced at his charcoal shirt. Theo had picked out his outfit and threatened to detail all his embarrassing childhood stories to the whole of Hogwarts if he didn't comply.

So he put on the fucking shirt.

"Grey is hardly a color, but fair play." Draco nodded toward the bar. "Drink?"

She nodded and he led her over to the table, hand hovering at the small of her back. Her dress wasn't backless and he mourned the loss of an opportunity to graze her skin.

He shook his head. Friends. You are friends, you perv.

Granger picked up a bottle of butterbeer and he refilled his glass of firewhisky. She looked like she wanted to melt into the floor. Draco gently touched her elbow and jerked his head again toward the windows and the couches that had been pushed out of the way. It was still too early for people to sneak off and snog so they were relatively deserted.

They settled in at opposite ends of a settee. It was an awkward silence for a while as they just sipped their drinks and watched the party go on. As he turned to start up a conversation, so did she.

They both started talking at the same time.

"So—"

"How—"

"Oh, you go," they said in unison. They stared at each other and then they both started laughing at the awkwardness.

"Maybe this is why we work in silence," Draco said sarcastically.

"We do tend to do better with that," she said with a small smile.

"You look good in red," he blurted. Well, fuck. Clearly, the firewhisky was catching up to him.

"Back to my appearance, are we?" she said playfully.

"Well, I figured you were tired of people lauding you for your brilliance. It's old news at this point and I couldn't think of anything original on the subject," Draco said smoothly. "Your beauty isn't the only impressive thing about you, but I think it's the most overlooked."

She looked at him, mouth agape.

"I mean that as a compliment. People just talk about how you were the brains of the Golden Trio. They talk about the brave Gryffindor Princess. But, no one ever talks about your looks. Blessing and a curse, I suppose. It doesn't hurt to hear it every once in a while, though. I'm rambling again. Please. Stop me at any time."

Blessedly, she cut him off. "Did you just call me pretty?" Well, he did ask for an interruption. He just nodded. Too afraid to let words tumble from his lips again. "Huh… well, that was unexpected."

They both took sips of their drinks and stared ahead of them.

"Will you two stop being absolute buzzkills and go dance or something?" Theo emerged from the crowd to herd them toward the dance floor. Blaise appeared and gently pushed Draco in the back so he stumbled into Granger.

A familiar position. His hand on her waist. Standing far too close.

"Now who's having trouble walking?" Granger teased.

"Cute," he smirked. He let his hands drift around to the small of her back. She shocked him by moving her hands to gently rest on his chest. They weren't dancing and a loud cough from behind him alerted him to their lack of movement. "Trust me?"

Her tentative nod caused his chest to tighten. He'd overanalyze that reaction later.

He used his hands to move her into a rhythmic sway while he moved his own body in similar movements, a quick tug had her closer to him. A hair's width of space separating them from actually touching.

Draco saw an opening and his firewhisky fueled brain told him to take it. He leaned in and cut to the side to whisper in her ear at the last second.

"Careful. You almost look like you're enjoying this." He heard her sharp gasp, but she didn't pull away from him. "Are you enjoying yourself, Granger?"

His hand wandered to trail up her spine and twisted the ends of her curls around his fingertips. Her shiver was everything to him.

"Are you flirting with me?" she asked hesitantly.

Draco pulled back to look into her eyes. "Ah…finally noticed, have you?"

Their moment was broken by a shrill, mocking laugh behind him.

Hermione froze. So much for that moment.

Her confidence had been soaring and then it had all come crashing down. She quickly extricated herself from Draco's arms, though he merely stood closer to her and angled his body in front of her.

Astoria.

She was sipping daintily from a cup and looking between Draco and Hermione.

"It's cute that you think he's seriously into you," Astoria drawled. She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Draco. "He is just going through a phase. Don't get attached."

Hermione moved to take a step away from Draco. She didn't really want to have this fight in front of everyone. And she'd exceeded her goal of just making an appearance.

Draco simply put a hand gently on her elbow to hold her in place. It was different from the way Ron would grab her. Even different from the way Daphne pulled her around. It was a suggestion. Support in the form of a touch. She could leave if she wanted to.

But he wanted her to stay.

"I think I can speak for myself, Tori," Draco said calmly. His tone was cold, but he was still quiet. Draco did not have a loud, aggressive anger. It was all concentrated in his jaw. Like he was holding back words rather than actions.

Astoria spared him a pitying glance as though to convey he was a poor, misguided heir. Like she was saying she knew what he needed better than he did.

That sparked something in Hermione. The condescension in that one glance reignited a spark of ire in her.

"I do believe I told you not to touch what wasn't yours," Astoria directed at Hermione with narrowed eyes.

"And I don't believe I saw your name on Malfoy's forehead," Hermione shot back.

"You can put couture on a Mudblood and it's still a Mudblood," Astoria snarled. It wasn't the first time she'd heard the slur. It wasn't even the first time this week someone had thrown the word in her face.

It was the first time someone had dared to say it in front of the group of Slytherins that had accepted her. It was the first time someone had said it in front of Draco.

Hermione had long since been desensitized to that word. It was carved into her. A petulant heiress using it as a power play barely resonated.

Theo had joined the circle and Daphne and Pansy flanked Hermione. Draco's jaw was clenched so tight, she could practically hear his molars cracking.

"It's cute that you think that word means anything anymore," Hermione said calmly, parroting Astoria's words from earlier. She never broke eye contact with the other witch. "I'll always be a Mudblood to you. But at least I won't end up some miserable, potion-dependent housewife who pops out an heir, gets trotted at every event as arm candy, and fucks anyone but her husband just to feel something."

"You insolent little bitch—"

"Oh, did you come up with clever insults?" Hermione cut in. "I doubt anything in that vapid little brain of yours could conjure up something that wasn't spoon-fed to you, but please. Give it a go."

"You'll regret the day you even dared to set foot in Slytherin." Astoria's gaze drifted to Hermione's left arm. "And trust me. I'll leave a few marks to join Bellatrix's little gift to you."

All the fight left Hermione at the mention of her scar. Many people had heard about her being Crucio'd by Bellatrix, but the scar… it was private. Astoria's smirk could only be described as gloating as she flounced off into the crowd.

Draco had gone stock-still at the mention of his aunt. Theo looked like he didn't know who to rush to first, her or Draco. Fortunately, the ladies made that choice for him as Pansy guided her to a couch out of view.

"I would apologize for my sister, but I'd prefer not to be associated with that cunt," Daphne fumed. She settled next to Hermione and rubbed a soothing hand on her upper back.

"I'd tell you to ignore her, but I did rather enjoy watching you put her in her place," Pansy mused. "Well done, Granger. We'll make a snake of you, yet." Hermione huffed a small laugh. She brought her left arm across her chest. No one could see the letters, but it still made her feel better.

"So… not entirely unfounded then," Pansy observed with pursed lips. "I wonder how she found out about that one."

"Does it matter?" Hermione snapped. Then she rubbed her temple with her right hand. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't take this out on you."

Daphne pushed a glass into her hand and the girls clinked their drinks together before downing them.

"Don't apologize. My sister sucks as a human being and has caused far more violent reactions in the past," Daphne offered.

"Daph, any ideas how Tori would know what appears to be a very private detail about Granger?" Pansy pondered.

"During the war, she idolized certain Death Eaters. I was fortunate enough to blend into the background, but Tori pushed her way to the forefront," Daphne recalled as she refilled her glass. "I believe Bellatrix was a sort of… mentor to her. Tori used to brag about being trained in the ways of Dark Magic. I always thought she was full of shite. Just another attention-grabbing scheme."

"Bellatrix did like to gloat. She'd throw Neville's parents in his face constantly during duels," Hermione added. "It wouldn't surprise me if she told her protégé about what happened."

"Granger… are you—"

"I think I just need some air. I'll see you back in the dorm." Hermione cut off Daphne's question abruptly. She couldn't handle this right now. Her head was spinning from the alcohol and the adrenaline from the fight. Hermione also had some swirling thoughts about Malfoy lurking, but that would have to wait.

Hermione rose from the couch and beelined for the door. If she'd glanced back, she would have seen a certain blond wizard ignoring the irate comments from his friends and tracking her exit.

How are we feeling? Next up, Draco gets some things off his chest.

Go check out my tumblr/twitter for a teaser and some fanart this Sunday (June 20)

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